


A Soulmate for Henry Angst Version.

by LittleOwlet



Series: Soulmate for Henry [1]
Category: Forever (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Gen, I was sad and heartbroken when I started this, OC death, Sad version, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, i cried, not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleOwlet/pseuds/LittleOwlet
Summary: Soulmate AU. Henry has a new soulmate. He doesn’t want one. Turns out his new soulmate has known he’d reject her since she got the mark. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now . . . But I had to hope.”
Relationships: Abraham Morgan & original female character, Henry Morgan/Original Female Character(s), onesided - Relationship
Series: Soulmate for Henry [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947814
Kudos: 14





	A Soulmate for Henry Angst Version.

Eryn met her soulmate quite by accident.  
Leaning against an old brick building, she takes a drag from the stub of a cigarette.  
It’s late at night, and Eryn is just passing the time.  
She has no where else to be.  
So.  
She smokes.  
Unfortunately the cigarettes end.  
And she is just so bored.  
Flicking the used stub to the cracked pavement, Eryn uses the heel of her converse to smush it into the ground.  
Now what?  
She sighs, flipping teal hair over her shoulders, she looks up at the sky and smiles.  
Time to go.  
Exiting the alleyway, Eryn is suddenly bum down on the ground.  
Back in the alleyway.  
“I am terribly sorry!” a distinctly male voice cries, hands come to her elbows and Eryn looks up to see a head of brown curls and cocoa brown eyes. “Are you alright?”  
Eryn swallows, a shaky—hopeful— smile spreading across her face, “Hi there, Soulmate.”

The conversation that followed was so . . .  
Painful.  
To recall.  
The man— her soulmate— had stared at her in such . . .  
Horror.  
It felt like a cold hand reached in and squeezed her heart.  
He just stared at her. Retracting his hands to his body as if she suddenly had developed the bubonic plague.  
One word. Cold as ice.  
“No.”  
And then, he left.

How long she sat there on the damp crackled road, she didn’t know or care.  
Rejection stung.  
No matter how many years you’ve prepared yourself for, it hurt.  
The person who was supposed to love and protect you. To accept you no matter the cost or circumstance.  
It. Hurt.  
Her mark had always been brown.  
The color of a one sided affair.  
The color of rejection.  
She always knew this was the outcome.  
But.  
It still didn’t help.

When the sun came up, so did Eryn.

In a way. The confrontation with her soulmate seemed to help her outlook on life.  
No sense waiting for something that has already happened.  
Her soulmate meeting had come and gone and nothing had changed.  
Nothing.  
Eryn found that a bit unfair.  
But that’s life for you.

So. She lived.

A month later, she was beginning to pull herself together. Eating and sleeping. Going to work and when no one was looking, she danced.  
Dancing was hers.  
She fantasied that one day she might have a kid or two. And she would share the dances with them.  
And only them.  
She knew that once a potential lover saw her mark, the muddiness of it, that she would be dropped like a bag of potatoes.  
But maybe a child wouldn’t be so idiotic and hurtful.  
Another thing she would teach this hypothetical child would be her love of the water.  
Every chance she got she would go to the waters edge and just.  
Sit.  
Relax and just be.  
Late at night she would dance by the river. But thats just between them.  
Today, she was sketching.  
Pad of paper in hand, she sat on an old weathered bench, staring out at the lapping waves.  
Her hands were smudged with pigment, and Eryn breathed in and out.

“Are you following me?” a man’s voice interrupted Eryn’s concentration, and she furrowed her brow, looking up to deny the strange question. Her words shriveled on her tongue and her mind went blank at the man to the side of her.  
Soulmate.  
Swallowing heavily, Eryn turned back to her pad, an echo of his own words coming through her lips. “No.”  
Focusing on her hand, Eryn willed herself not to shake as she purposefully added detail to a seagull.  
She felt her soul mate’s eyes on her.  
Evaluating.  
Assessing.  
Judging her appearance.  
It was quite common. She wasn’t short nor tall. Just in between. Her hair was teal, yet she had no piercings, not even her ears. She wore glittery make up and chap-stick, yet no contour or dramatic eyebrows. She was skinny and hunched over.  
She drew attention, but never for to long.  
An initial flutter and then, she faded into the background.  
A morning glory on the wall.  
“I’m . . . Sorry.” The apology was uttered, and Eryn’s brows scrunched down further.  
“You say that a lot.” The statement was uttered without attention drifting from the paper.  
She felt him sit down beside her, breathing in and out. “You’re an Artist.”  
Eryn wondered what on earth he was doing.  
It was almost like . . .  
She hummed non committedly, flicking the pencil over to erase a beak.  
Her Soulmate stared at her, she felt his eyes flicker across her form, “Are you self taught?”  
Eryn sighed, her pencil stilling.  
‘Just what on Earth did he want?’  
She lifted her eyes to stare across the water. A deep breath in.  
And out.  
“Mostly.” She paused. Spring time air spreading through her lungs. “Why are you doing this?”  
She felt more than saw his reaction. “Why.”  
A gulp.  
She felt tears start to brim and she hated herself for them. “You’ve already . . . “ She shifted her gaze back down to her sketch. Staring unblinkedly down at the black and white depiction.  
“What do you want?”

“What do you want?” the question, no. The plea was when the girl finally, finally, turned her gaze to him and Henry’s heart clenched at those eyes.  
Those dazzingly emerald eyes.  
Those dazzingly emerald eyes filled with tears.  
And he put them there.  
“I . . . “ He paused, wondering why indeed. “I don’t know.”  
Those unfairly pure eyes, oh how they convicted him.  
The smile. Well. That was a surprise.  
It was small. Like a forget me not in a sea of lilies. And his soul ached.  
But. She just wasn’t Abigail. Wasn’t his love.  
And she never would be.

Eryn felt her heart wither as his jaw clenched. As if he had just remembered something entirely unpleasant and then he glared at her.  
Cold as steel.  
As if his thoughts were her fault.

He left soon after that.

Eryn swirled the white towel in and out of the Bourbon glass. Drying it in and out before placing it next to it’s brethren. Good God. She wondered, eyes widening. There wasn’t an end to them!  
It might have been the cause of the steady drinkers at the table in the back or the man who looked like he should have anime bubbles leaking from his head—thats how many drinks he had had—.  
Turning to the bar, Eryn wanted to shrivel, slink away and disappear.  
Cocoa brown eyes glared at her.  
Great.  
Her soulmate was accompanied by a woman, breathtaking woman, her dark eyes caught Eryn’s emerald and flagged her down for a refill.  
Preparing herself for nasty words and hateful glares, Eryn plastered a empty smile on. “What can I get for you, lassie?”  
The caramel brunette snorted, a half smile that reached her eyes, “Whiskey, you new?”  
Studiously ignoring the man beside them, Eryn’s smile faded into a softer echo, “You could say that.”  
“Well kid, keep ‘em coming,” the brunette said, throwing back the glass before slamming it onto the counter.  
She did. Avoiding her soulmate’s accusing stare and all the while forcing an ever so painful smile onto her aching cheeks.  
The pair of brunettes left together and Eryn’s heart cracked just a bit more as her soulmate reached over to guide his lady friend from the back. Caressing her shoulder with such tenderness that Eryn wanted to scream, “Why! Why am I not enough?”  
But she didn’t.  
And that was that.

Eryn meets Abraham quite by accident.  
She always loved old things and made it a point to go out of her way every month and visit an old store. Entering into ‘Abe’s Antiques’ Eryn felt a rush of the feeling of greeting an old friend.  
Her eyes hovered over every which thing and then, like a magnet, she settled on a jewelery box. She glided toward it. Awe on her face. Shaking hands reaching out, she caressed the old wood. Like the blind reading a face.  
A smile stretched and she swallowed back a laugh or a cry.  
She hardly knew which.  
This had been hers.  
Once.  
Once this mahogany box had held all her childhood treasures. Shiny rocks and baby teeth.  
Dried out wildflowers she couldn’t bear to part with.  
Her Grandmother’s promise ring . . .  
Opening it; she let out a shaky smile. It had been hers. Once upon a time . . .  
She remembered her brother stabbing the delicate velvet with a knife, killing an arachnid with her squeals behind him.  
Her fingers smoothed the sides of the box, remembering the dents that were remnant of her clumsy child hands dropping the treasure box onto the paneled floors in the attic. Closing the lid, her smile faded. Searching the dark splotches were the fire licked the chest.  
“Can I help you?” the voice was kind, and it was old.  
Eryn always loved old things. People all the more. Turning to the man, his large nose and splotchy hair, she found comfort in his wrinkles and the wisdom stored within them.  
She smiled at him. A smile not many would see. It was a smile fragile little thing.  
And he knew it.  
“How . . . “ Fingers caress polished wood, “How much for this?”  
A scraggly gray brow raises and he nods at the box. “Three-fifty.”  
She hides the shock well. Her smile freezes for a moment, her eyes lower and she quickly does the math.  
She wouldn’t be able to afford anything other than instant ramen for weeks. The heat would be cut off.  
But . . .  
“Do you take visa?”

He didn’t and so Eryn parted with her last check.  
She hadn’t gotten new ones in years.  
“Thank you.” She tells him, tears in her voice. He carefully wraps the box, and asks, “What does it mean to you? If I might ask.”  
She considers him, this old man with life in his gait. And tells him a truth. “Once upon a time . . . Instead of a pen and paper, a little girl had a box. Not an ordinary splintery box, mind you. But a box that must be polished and kept on high places and she was happy for it. It kept her secrets and her truths. Her little white lies and her nightmares. Once upon a time a little girl put her life into that box . . . but then the fire came and the box was gone.”  
The old man stared at her. And Eryn almost squirmed.  
He was seeing her.  
And that was weird.  
“I see.”  
And that was that.

They ran into each other after that. And for the first time in quite a while, Eryn found a friend.  
She felt as if they’d known each other forever.  
“Maybe in a past life, we did,” she tells him. Pulling him along the shore early in the morning.  
Abraham smiles at her and for a moment, she was happy.  
But nothing lasts forever.  
Eryn knew this more than most.  
He’d invited her to dinner. She wore her favorite pale blue dress. The one with lace around the middle. She brought an apple pie, making the treat from scratch like mother used to.  
But the duo became a trio and Eryn stared into her soulmate’s eyes.  
The pie slid out of her hands.  
Glass shattered and so did her heart.

It was so . . . Ugly.  
Those eyes that used to look at her with gentleness now stared at her as if she was an imposter.  
And to think. She shared the sea with him.  
And her soulmates eyes. Oh how they cut.  
Accusatory and cold.  
And oh they cut her to the quick.  
“I-I-I’ll just—just go.”  
And like a coward. She fled.  
Hand bleeding like an allegory of her heart, she went to the sea.  
And she wept.

Eventually her tears were spent and she felt numb.  
Cold swept into her bones and she stared across the dark waters.  
Wishing. Wishing to feel just one more time.  
She stayed there for a good long while.  
And then she left.

It was well into the night. The air damp with rain. Lights bounced off the water and Eryn moved sluggishly.  
Months had past and she was still numb from the cold.  
Numb.  
But then . . . “No!” eyes wide and she moved without thought.  
Racing through the straggling crowd she pushed her dear one aside.  
And took his place.

Henry shook. Still with terror. Abraham. His baby boy was standing in the way of a semi truck.  
The brakes were squealing but nothing was happening.  
The ground was too wet and he couldn’t move a muscle.  
Useless.  
But then. She came like a bullet. Rushing in and taking his place.  
Green eyes and determination. The headlights shone on her face and she closed them in resignation.  
Her body flew on impact.  
Then. Then he could move.

Eryn was feeling. For the first time in oh so long. She was feeling.  
Abraham and his kind kind eyes were wet and she felt tears drop on her own. “Hello, dear one,” she croaked a bloody hand reaching to tuck a loose curl behind his ear.  
“Oh. Oh Eryn. No.” His denial was met with a wet cough, blood spattered her lips.  
Then her soulmate came crashing down beside her and his eyes no longer cut.  
They were sorrowful.  
And that . . . That made her hurt. “I’m not sorry,” she says, and then her hand falls. Eyes growing dim. “My dear ones . . . Don’t . . . Don’t cry.”  
And then she was gone. Like a mayfly in the autumn.  
.  
.  
.  
She always knew hers was a one sided love affair. She just didn’t know how much so.

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing the happy version of this where instead of Eryn dying she survives. But I've got no clue when it'll be done. Feel free to bug me to finish it!  
> Honestly I wrote this because I was a bit heartbroken and it leaked through the page. Hope you enjoy this and I hope you like my OC!


End file.
